The De-Elfing Clause
by NoelieG
Summary: With Santa's permission, and Santa's permission only, elves can be transformed into humans. This is rarely done though, because once transformed the (former) elf will forget that their former life at the North Pole, and the North Pole itself, ever existed. So what was is that made Tinka, a vivacious and hard working elf, want to do some so drastic?


**Prologue  
****  
22****nd**** November 2014.  
London, England.  
**

The smell of vanilla and cinnamon went from being aromatic to headache inducing as Tinka Elfstrom kneaded dough to make what would be the fourth batch of cinnamon rolls.

It was just over a month until Christmas and already the children of Ms. Mary Ella's Orphanage were getting into the spirit of the holiday season. They sat in the small living room, not far from the kitchen, as the owner of the orphanage, Mary Ella, read them Christmas stories upon request.

Tinka could hear Mary and the children talking through the thin walls, and over the sound of 'I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch)' by the Four Tops playing on the radio.

"Does Santa help build any of the toys?" Tinka heard young Paul Turner ask. "Or does he just sit on his bum all day as the elves do all the work?"

Tinka chuckled to herself, as did some of the children, as she rolled out the dough.

"Mr Turner." Mary uttered in a stern, but somehow warm tone. "We don't use the word bum, dear. As for your question, no, Santa does not build the toys." She answered his question. "In a way the North Pole is opposite to our world; the young ones do all the work instead of the adults." She joked, causing the orphans to snigger again.

'Twist and Shout' by The Beatles started to play on the radio when suddenly the swinging doors to the kitchen flew open and two small figures raced passed behind Tinka. She didn't turn around fast enough to see who they were, but she spun on her heel the moment a blond boy bolted through the doors.

"Woah!" Tinka tried to block his path. "Hey." She lightly grabbed the young boy's shoulders and kneeled down to his level. "What have I told you guys about running through the kitchen?"

"But Tinka," the boy, Lyle Shannon, whined, "Sant…"

"No excuses." Tinka interrupted. "I've told you all about a millions of times by now, not to come in here. You could get hurt. You could hurt _me_." She said playfully, before letting go of Lyle and standing up. "Tell the others not to come in here. Otherwise, instead of cinnamon rolls, I'm gonna make you some yummy tuna sandwiches. How does that sound?"

Lyle cringed and shook his head. "Gross." He groaned.

"Then don't come back in here, okay? I don't wanna tell you again." Tinka moved aside and Lyle whizzed out of the room. "And stop running!" She shouted, and then waved her hand dismissively, knowing that he wasn't listening.

Going back to her baking, Tinka scattered a mix of sugar and cinnamon evenly over the flattened dough before rolling the dough into a long tube so that the powdered mix was on the inside. She then cut the dough to get about sixteen raw cinnamon rolls and placed onto a tray, which she then slid into the preheated oven.

Exhausted, and finally done with baking the rolls, Tinka let out a huge huff and leaned back against the bench next to the oven, wiping her forehead with the back of her flour covered hand as she glanced at the clock.

Just as the clock struck half past one, the loud, musical doorbell to the orphanage rang, causing Tinka to jerk as she always did, and just like always she peaked out of the kitchen, ready to scrutinize whoever was at the front door, in case any adopters came by.

"Ho, ho, ho!" A deep voice boomed as soon as Mary opened the door. "An early Merry Christmas!" A man dressed as Santa Claus stepped inside and stood in the doorway. "We've brought some gifts for the children." He spoke with an American accent.

"What the hell?" Tinka whispered to herself. The area between her eyebrows knitted when she realised that Lyle must have tried to tell her Santa was visiting. _'But it's still November_.' She thought. _'I guess that's why the kids are getting excited for Christmas.'_

But, still, the orphanage never drew visits from Santa. The orphans normally had to be taken on a trip to the local Westfield shopping centre to see Santa.

"Welcome. Come in please." Mary moved aside so that Santa could tread further into the building. "Children! Come down to the living room." The middle-aged, strawberry blonde woman called over the voices of the excited kids already seated in the living room.

Santa, carrying a large suede bag, followed Mary into the living room, two boys, dressed as elves, trailed behind him. One of the elves was short, slightly stocky and wore thin-rimmed glasses. The other boy seemed quite tall to be dressed as an elf and Tinka couldn't see his face, as tight black curls cascaded around it, and he wore a green, suede hat, which looked similar to a newsboy cap.

Stampede-like footsteps sounded from above the kitchen as the rest of the children hurried downstairs.

Tinka stepped away from the door and moved over to the sink to wash her hands. She then grabbed a mirrored tray to place the freshly baked cinnamon rolls onto.

Catching a glimpse of herself, Tinka found that wisps of her chestnut brown hair had fallen out of her high bun, and that her high bun was no longer high. Seeing this, she pulled her hair out and retied it into a high ponytail, as well as repining her fringe back on top of her head.

"Tinka, dear." Mary came into the kitchen out of the blue, startling Tinka. "Are you able to go down to the post office? They have a few packages for us."

"Sure." Tinka said, taking off her apron and placing it onto a hook near the door before putting a red zip-up jacket on over her white shirt.

Making her way out of the kitchen, Tinka found that the orphans had filled almost half of the living room as they sat around Santa. Evelyn Miller, a five-year-old girl with a short blonde bob, sat on Santa's lap and eagerly babbled on about what she would like for Christmas.

When Evelyn was done, Lyle got up and pushed his way to the front. Before anyone could stop him, he jumped onto Santa too quickly and almost fell backwards over the armrest, knocking the lamp off of the side table as he tried to steady himself.

Sighing, Tinka ambled over to the mess and carefully put the lamp base back on the table. She bent back down to grab the lampshade, but grabbed it at the same time as someone else.

As she straightened back up, Tinka glanced up to see the taller elf gawking at her as his mouth gaped open and his dark brown eyes remained wide and unblinking; he'd looked as though he'd seen a ghost. "Tinka?" He gasped.


End file.
